


One Summer Day

by Natashasolten



Series: Pennsylvania Series [3]
Category: Wiseguy
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Pennsylvania series, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-24
Updated: 2011-11-24
Packaged: 2017-10-26 12:26:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/283110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Natashasolten/pseuds/Natashasolten
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sonny discovers more about what Vinnie was dealing with while Sonny was in prison.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Summer Day

*

I receive your trembling  
like a gift

\-- Anne Hebert

 

Vinnie lay on his side, his forehead pushing lightly against Sonny’s arm. He was asleep now, breathing slowly, one arm curled against his chest, the other flung on top of the covers against his hip. He wore his usual white tank and shorts… well, technically the shorts were on the floor now.

Sonny lay on his back wide awake. He couldn’t sleep. It was a full moon outside which was maybe one reason why it had been such a crazy day. The light entered the partially open window and the room was almost bright enough for him to read a book without turning on a light. Sonny put one hand behind his own head. His other lay alongside Vinnie, the soft hair of Vinnie’s bangs pressing against his shoulder.

He was glad Vinnie was sleeping calmly. The day had been agitating for him, the first time Sonny had seen first hand, since he’d moved in after getting parole, some of the results of the stresses Vinnie had gone through in the past nine months.

The morning had started out just fine. A peaceful, early summer day. Vinnie had gone out into the backyard to do some watering. Sonny went with him and ended up doing the job because he wanted to keep busy, and because he found the exercise of watering plants a calming process, centering. He still felt out of his element here. Some mornings he would wake up ready to go back to work in his offices in Atlantic City only to realize he’d never do that again. That sudden jolt that he no longer lived in Atlantic City had never happened to him in prison, only after he’d gotten out. Only after he’d moved into Vinnie’s house in a small town outside of Pittsburgh.

So he watered the plants and he watched the water bead along leaves and bushes and flowers that bordered a grassy area beyond the patio. It sparkled in the sunlight, glinting like diamonds reflecting prisms of color. Vinnie was rather haphazardly sweeping at a path that lead around the patio to the side of the house. He’d turned on a radio on the patio table. It wasn’t loud, but it was playing what Sonny thought of as kind of smarmy songs, although they were songs he recognized and many he even knew all the words to. It must’ve been a “hits” station. Sonny didn’t care. It was all fine with him. Time was moving slower now. He could breathe for once in his life without worrying about looking over his shoulder; he could watch the lazy path of a bee aiming for the center of a flower and actually marvel at the delicateness of its wings as it landed and began crawling around gathering up pollen. When in his life had he ever watched a bee crawl around on a flower?

He heard a Foreigner love song come on that he remembered liking once, then more blended in and he recognized Rod Stewart, some cheesy Gordon Lightfoot thing, some nice Pink Floyd thrown in with Phil Collins. Then “Unchained Melody” came on. It was a beautiful song he’d loved once and he fell into a kind of daze listening, spraying water along the far wall. Then he started to feel funny and he didn’t want to listen to it anymore but it kept playing and he had the thought of actually spraying the radio to get it to stop.

Finally, blissfully, it ended and he found he was chewing hard on his lower lip and staring at water going silkily up into the air and making a rainbow.

Startling him from behind, Vinnie said, “What are you doing?”

Sonny didn’t turn right away. He started to lower his head, bit his lip harder and clamped down on the regrets he’d begun to feel building up in him again. Then, like a lightning bolt of genius inspiration, a thought struck him. A very very evil thought. And his heart rate came up again. His skin started to feel alive. And the evil ran through his veins up up and into his hands making him feel vivid, vital, and he turned slowly at first, very slowly, then quickly darted the hose forward and around and sprayed Vinnie in the chest with a steady stream of wet that ricocheted into his face and down over his legs. Vinnie let out a startled yell, jumped to the side but Sonny followed him with the spray, and the evil crept into his shoulders, up his neck and onto his face as he felt himself grin wide.

Vinnie shouted when the water followed him. “Fuck!” He tried to move toward Sonny to grab the hose, but Sonny was ready. He backed up and sprayed him again, right in the face. Now Vinnie was drenched and dripping, prisms caught in his shadow-dark hair, and he looked pissed and outraged and thoroughly beautiful.

Vinnie made a move for the hose again and Sonny dodged him. “Oh no you don’t!” he said, moving back along the wall, then shuffling to the side, then running as Vinnie made a grab for him. Sonny pulled away, gave out a harsh laugh, and dodged him but Vinnie grabbed the hose from the ground and tugged, pulling Sonny off balance. Now they grappled with it and Sonny decided he had two choices, stay and fight, or run. Since Vinnie always won any fight they’d ever had, he decided to run for it. He still had the hose end, but Vinnie was pulling hard. Finally, he let go and ran for the spigot but not before he felt the spray fall over him in a shower of cool, soft droplets. It felt wonderful, but when he got to the spigot he turned it off. Vinnie stood with a limp hose in his hand and looking like something recently drowned that had just come back to life.

Sonny suppressed his grin and stared at him. Vinnie dropped the hose, turned away, stripped off his blue t-shirt and without looking at Sonny walked over to the lounge chair, pulled it into the sun and lay down to sun-dry. He tossed his shirt on the ground. Sonny watched him for a little while. He really was stunning with his olive tanned skin and lean musculature. There wasn’t an ounce of fat on him, and his jeans were tight in all the right places.

Finally, Sonny went over to him. He said nothing. He just sat down on the semi-damp, sweet-scented grass and stretched out beside Vinnie. He didn’t want a chair for himself, just the earth beneath him and the depthless blue sky above, sky almost the same color as Vinnie’s eyes. His shirt was damp but he kept it on. The early sun warmed him and he felt so good, so strangely happy that his chest tightened. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and let himself just relax and drift. He was six again, maybe seven, and the world was his not in a dark, daring or controlling way, but in the way of seven year olds when nothing exists but you and the air and the day and you’re immortal and nothing is ever going to change or ever be as good as this one moment in time when you are truly, truly alive.

The radio still droned, but now Sonny didn’t really hear it. He must’ve fallen into a doze, because the next thing he knew, Vinnie’s shadow was over him, they were both dry, and Vinnie was looking at him with a wry expression that communicated a combination of amusement, affection and disbelief. He offered Sonny a hand. Sonny took it and stood and together they walked back into the house.

That was how the day had started. And Sonny wished it had continued on like that. But as that song he loved said: “Time can do so much,” and there was no way of stopping it.

*

After they had lunch, Vinnie got the phone call. As soon as Vinnie answered the phone and Sonny heard him speak, he knew it was not a typical call, and he knew…he could feel it instantly in the air, in Vinnie’s voice, in his own head and mind, that Vinnie had become immediately stressed.

He tried not to eavesdrop. But he couldn’t help it. Once Vinnie said, “I know, Pete,” and that was when Sonny knew it was family. And family was a difficult subject for Vinnie.

Vinnie hardly spoke to his brother, Sonny knew, although the “rift” was not really between Vinnie and Pete. He had told Sonny they had not kept in touch for all the time that Sonny was in prison. But it was his mom who was the one who’d actually cut Vinnie off. She would not see him. And she would not take his calls. He knew that. And he knew it hurt Vinnie, but there was nothing he could do about it.

Everything about this unbelievable, improbable connection/affair between them seemed so hard. Sonny was actually glad he didn’t have to deal with family. His parents and brother were dead. His other brother, fifteen years his senior, was an ocean and a continent away, and they had never been close. And his niece was far away on the west coast. He had contact now with no one from his former life. And strangely, aside from maybe his niece Tracy, there was no one he even missed.

What he would’ve done differently if his brother Dave had still been alive, or his father, he didn’t know. He knew he wouldn’t give up Vinnie without a fight, but the influence of family was strong, and he might’ve chickened out and never moved in with Vinnie if he had had family to return to after prison…if he’d had anyone who wanted him. And that wasn’t because he didn’t care about Vinnie. It was because he was a chicken, and he didn’t want to face hard personal stuff in his life. Give him back-alley meetings with murderous thugs and diamond thieves and he was in his element. But make him deal with something as controversial as this sudden and recent foray into homosexuality in direct confrontation with his own next of kin and he’d probably blanch and lie and pretend his way out of the predicament losing even more of his heart in the process. It made him a coward, he decided, and as he tried not to overhear Vinnie on the phone, he decided he would do anything he could to make this easier for him. He would be as solicitous as possible. It wouldn’t be difficult. Except for his time in prison when he’d nurtured his anger and for survival’s sake built so many emotional walls, he’d always been that way with Vinnie, since the day he’d met him. It was just natural for him to look at Vinnie and decide, “I want to make this guy comfortable, happy, mine.” He didn’t care what it took. He didn’t even understand the impulse at first. But it had always been there. And he’d do it again. This time, however, he didn’t have a red Porsche to give him, or a helicopter to loan him. He didn’t have anything now but a bit of money and a bit more of his heart.

When Vinnie hung up he didn’t enter the living room right away. Sonny sat on the couch and pretended to be looking through the TV Guide.

Finally, Vinnie came into the room. Sonny closed the magazine. “So what’s up?” he asked casually.

Vinnie flopped down next to him. “My Uncle Lewis died.”

“Christ.” Sonny took a breath. “What do you need?”

Vinnie turned and looked at him. “Nothing. I’m not going to New York.”

Surprised, Sonny said, “Why the hell not?”

Vinnie bowed his head. “It’s not like we were that close anyway.”

And then Sonny knew. Carlotta didn’t want him. Carlotta had asked Pete to tell him the news but also to tell him not to come. And Sonny thought quickly, It’s because of me. Sonny said, “You could still go. If you want.”

Vinnie shook his head. His mouth stayed in a grim line. He said nothing.

Sonny huffed a little. “Did Pete tell you not to come?”

“How’d you know it was Pete I was talking to?”

“I heard you say his name.”

Vinnie nodded. “He didn’t exactly tell me what to do, just said it would be better overall for our mom if….”

“If you didn’t upset her by being there,” Sonny finished, rolling his eyes. “You know, when I first met your mom I thought she was a pretty great lady. Even though I knew she didn’t like me, I liked her instantly. But she’s a real tough cookie. Stubborn. Unfair, even. I don’t know what to think now.”

Vinnie said quietly, “Her generation, where she comes from, everything is black and white. It’s her comfort zone. She needs it.”

“Yeah. At the expense of her son, of love, of you.” Sonny turned his whole body toward him. “Vinnie, I’m a coward, too, so I recognize one when I see one.”

“You mean me?” Vinnie asked, perplexed.

“No, no, no. You got that wrong. You’re the opposite. Vinnie, it’s Carlotta who’s the coward. You take risks for love, for family. You do what you can to make sure they’re okay. That’s how you operate. Most people don’t. But they don’t realize it until something really hard comes their way that they can’t face. I always thought I was the kind of person who was braver, who would take care of people no matter what, who would give them the benefit of the doubt. But then with you…I wasn’t brave at all. I wanted you to leave. I wanted to leave. I wanted to….” die. Sonny gulped. “Anything but face what was too hard to face. If you hadn’t kept seeing me in prison, if you hadn’t pushed it… Vinnie, I wouldn’t be here. I wouldn’t even be…breathing.”

“But it’s because of what I did to you…you’re not a coward….”

Sonny looked at Vinnie’s long hands resting in his lap. Those knowing hands. The hands that touched him, loved him better and sweeter than anyone ever had in his life. “Yes, I am.” He blinked his eyes fast, looked down. “Maybe I don’t remember it, but I was a coward when…when I….” He whispered, finally, three hesitant words. “In the Rialto.” C’mon, Sonny, admit it. You of all people actually tried to commit suicide.

They didn’t talk about the past. It was like an unspoken agreement. There were certain references, of course, that could not be avoided. Sometimes one of them would say something like: Remember that day Sid was such prick…or, Whatever happened to all those rings and watches you took off those Rabid Rabbit guys?

Vinnie said softly, “Don’t….”

Sonny shrugged, interrupting. “I make up for it with a bravado front. Like I said, I could beat another guy at the quickdraw without batting an eye. I have my strengths, believe me, I’m not whining. But in my personal life I’m not brave.”

Vinnie gave him a slight smile. Then his eyes started to sparkle with something other than the smile and he closed them. “I don’t know what to do,” he said softly.

“Were you close to your uncle ever?”

Vinnie shook his head, eyes still closed.

“Carlotta’s not being fair to you. Some day, even if it’s not now, you’ll have to confront that…and so will she.”

Vinnie drew his hands together on his lap, leaned his head back on the couch. He still said nothing.

“What about Pete?” Sonny asked.

“What about him?”

“Can you talk to him about any of this?”

“I don’t want to talk to Pete about it.”

“Have you ever talked to him about us?”

“I don’t want to.”

“Has he tried?”

Vinnie shrugged.

“So are you cutting him out or is he cutting you out?”

Vinnie said, again, “I don’t want to talk to him about us. It’s none of his damn business anyway.” Then Vinnie got up and walked out of the room.

For the second time in one day, Sonny was so glad he didn’t have family to deal with.

What they had was so good. Why did everything else concerning their relationship have to be so hard just because they were two men? Two men. Who had happened to fall in love. There it was. The ugly truth. And God and the church and parents and the government and society decided, for no reason that Sonny could see that truly made any sense, to ignore it, sweep it under the rug or, worse, revile it, call it evil, decide they were going on a non-stop flight to Hell unless of course they came to their senses and repented, unless they decided to just chuck anything that had to do with the heart, with support and affection and concern and compassion. Just throw it all away. Because he was a guy. Because Vinnie was a guy. They should throw it all away. Live a lie. Live alone. To please a world that knew nothing of who they were, what they shared. To please anonymous masses who were so afraid of rocking any boat, questioning any status quo. And where would chucking all that they had together get them?

Well, for one, they’d be saved from Hell, of course.

And second, Carlotta might start talking to Vinnie again.

Sonny sighed. This was too hard. Just too damn fucking hard.

*

Sonny found Vinnie playing Nintendo on the bedroom TV. He brushed him lightly on the shoulder, then plopped next to him on the bed, saying softly, “Hey, looks fun,” and watched for awhile.

After Vinnie’s little cartoon guy got burned a couple times he turned to Sonny. “Wanna try?”

Sonny shook his head, waved it away with his hand. He lay his head back on the bedspread and said, “It looks way too dangerous for me.”

Vinnie chuckled. “Don’t you want to kill the dragon? Save the princess?”

“That’s more for your type,” Sonny replied. “I’d fuck it all up, save the dragon, kill the princess.”

Vinnie laughed out loud. “Sometimes dragons need saving, too.”

After awhile, Sonny started rubbing his foot along Vinnie’s hip and thigh. Vinnie let his character die again, turned to him and lay down beside him propped on one elbow. “What?” he asked.

Sonny shrugged, watching him carefully. Vinnie seemed okay but he still wasn’t sure. “Wanna get outta here? Go do something?”

“Maybe it’d be more fun to stay in,” Vinnie said, tilting his head back. Sometimes the bastard knew he was beautiful and intentionally flaunted it.

Sonny ignored the pose. “Well that goes without saying, of course. But I thought we might go for a drive, look at lots for rent for Steelnova Specialty Car Imports. Find out price ranges. Stuff like that.”

Vinnie smirked, then gave him a…what…could that be called a sultry look? Smoldering? “Work. Sounds fun,” he said, leaning forward a little.

Sonny leaned up, grabbed his chin, turned Vinnie’s head and kissed him on the cheek. “All right then!” He smacked him on the shoulder, bouncing up. “Let’s go.” He stood and looked back at the bed.

Vinnie lay back on both elbows looking slightly amused and disgruntled at the same time. Then he said, “I don’t gotta change, do I?”

“Nah. No suits this time. You’re fine.”

Vinnie gave a long sigh, then stood. “Where’re my keys?”

*

They had worked out some of the logistics for Steelnova, but neither one of them was in any hurry to get the company up and running. They had time to look at options, consider loans (Vinnie was a little leery of using money from ill-gotten gains, although he had acquiesced, admitting that money was money and if they had it they should be at least be using it for something productive.)

Sonny, on the other hand, thought that describing the money as “ill-gotten gains” was an exaggeration. He had earned it. Every penny. And so had Vinnie, since the Zhoratso Brothers had gotten his customs operation not only shut down, they had almost killed Vinnie in the process. He didn’t care that Vinnie was the one who had set them up with the Feds. That didn’t matter. Vinnie had still almost been killed. Also, Sonny had been exonerated for that due to the fact that Vinnie refused to testify in even that little escapade. No, he decided. It wasn’t ill-gotten. Besides, no one but the two of them (and the dead Zhoratsos) even knew the money, now just under one million three hundred thirty thousand, even existed. They had fucking earned that bag of cash.

Vinnie drove toward the city. There were a couple lots they’d been looking at along the highway that got very good traffic. Their business would be easily accessible and visible to commuters, which was what they wanted. They had already discussed that only after they rented the lot and got things going the way they wanted would they even begin to think of hiring an office manager, assistant and accountant. For now it would just be the two of them, starting small. But while Sonny actually enjoyed office work, Vinnie hated the feeling of being tied down to one desk.

“Good thing you quit your job, then, eh?” Sonny had quipped.

Vinnie’d just glared at him.

So that settled, they both knew it would be Vinnie who would do all the car shopping and decisions on importing if they decided to do that, and Vinnie who would be delivering and possibly even working on the cars. Sonny would be the salesman/showman.

Now they drove leisurely down the highway commenting on the various businesses they passed, and on various empty lots or buildings for rent. Suddenly it seemed like Vinnie was in a good mood again. If he was gonna go for real high end, he said, he’d go for a Lamborghini, and thought it would be a great showpiece to have out front.

Sonny said, “You put a Lamborghini on that lot you’re gonna have to have barbed wire and a pit bull to guard it at night.”

“I’ll drive it home every night,” Vinnie replied.

But now Sonny’s mind was spinning. He hadn’t even begun to think through the security system they would invariably need if they did more than just custom orders and started to pile up stock. Technically, he never actually worked retail. But he comforted himself with the thought that if it got too complicated and daunting, they’d come up with other ideas. Even though it was rather boring, Sonny was very good at investment banking and believed he could make a fine living just investing what they already had. Hell, people retired on less.

But he and Vinnie were not idle types. They were far too young for retirement.

Well, this idea was still in dream-mode, not reality yet, so he was gonna have fun with it.

While Vinnie drove, Sonny wrote down various addresses and lot descriptions that they could ask a real estate agent about down the line. They were laughing, having a good time. “That one’s next to a pizza joint,” Vinnie said. “Think about it. It’s so convenient. We could have pizza for lunch every day.”

Sonny said, “And there’s a drugstore within walking distance where we can buy the Tums for afterward. I’ll put a double star next to that one.”

Vinnie was chuckling in a relaxed, soft way when the cop car with the flashing lights seemed to come out of nowhere and pull up behind them. Vinnie pulled over just as Sonny turned, frowning. “What the…?”

Vinnie turned off the engine. Sonny looked at him. Vinnie’s eyes were closed and he had a very funny look.

“But…,” Sonny began. “But you didn’t do anything.”

Vinnie did not reply.

A uniformed guy about six-two with a very burly chest and a round face walked up to the driver side just as Vinnie rolled down the window.

“Agent Terranova,” the man said, saying Vinnie’s last name with a deliberate drawl. “Or should I say ex-agent? Word does travel fast.”

Vinnie kept staring straight ahead. Sonny was confused. Did this guy know Vinnie?

“Mister Ex-Agent Terranova, could you step out of the car, please?”

“Did I do something wrong, Officer?” Vinnie asked flatly.

“Just step out of the car.”

Vinnie opened the door. Sonny said, “Hey, Vin…”

“Shut up,” Vinnie interrupted. And it wasn’t quite kind. But Sonny shut up. He leaned back and watched Vinnie get out of the car.

Vinnie stood and the officer said, “That what you Quantico pricks wearing these days? Jeans? The new uniform? And hobnobbing with gangsters? Maybe I got in the wrong racket.”

Sonny’s eye widened. What the fuck was going down here? Did Vinnie have his own harasser these days? Sonny couldn’t help but be transported instantly back in time to the days when he and Dave were hounded constantly by specific cops, one being Vinnie’s old boss from the days Vinnie had done time to cement his cover. And then there was the cop Vinnie fake-killed for him to earn his trust. That guy had been such a pain to Dave, especially after Dave had stupidly killed Vinnie’s boss. Sonny didn’t believe in killing cops. For the most part. But the one he’d ordered Vinnie to kill had pissed him off so bad. Sometimes when he thought about the old days, memories weren’t so great.

Now he listened as this guy lambasted Vinnie up and down. His fists clenched. He felt his heart rate go up. His skin tingled, started to feel hot. He so badly wanted to hit something right now. He’d had pretty good control of his temper these days…in fact prison had actually mellowed him…but this could make him crazy if he let it.

Sonny himself was used to being harassed by cops. It came with the Mafia title. It was part of doing business. It was like breathing to him. He’d learned you let them say what they came to say, let them bully, and you kept your mouth shut. Of the two of them, Dave had always been the one to mouth-off to cops, to challenge, argue, threaten. Sonny was the calmer one, the one who glared in disbelief from the sidelines, who, when he did challenge, kept his voice low, soft but dangerous. But right now he was surprised to find he felt very little of that old control.

Because this was Vinnie who was being treated like shit. Vinnie!

He found he was actually holding his breath as he heard the cop saying, “…keeping your nose clean, ‘cause I’m watching you, always watching. Hear me?”

Vinnie mumbled something about tax-payer dollars, which made Sonny’s chest swell because that was his line. Vinnie had learned that from him. He could see the back of Vinnie, leaning casually against the side of the car, in seeming total control.

Sonny thought: Okay, just relax. Vinnie’s a trained Fed, a fucking genius. If anyone can handle this, his name is Vincent Michael Terranova.

Just then a second cop walked up. The first said, “Well, looks like you pay your DMV bills on time, all’s in order for you, Quantico. But what about him?”

Vinnie said, “What about him?”

“Well, prick, I’d like to see his I.D. Thought I wouldn’t recognize him? Everyone knows you have that pansy-assed mob-boss living with you now. He your boyfriend? Huh?”

Sonny felt all the blood drain from his face. But he couldn’t look away. Vinnie leaned forward very slightly. He said, “If you recognize him, then you know who he is and you might not be wanting to say those things.”

“Are you threatening me, Quantico?”

“Push me harder,” Vinnie said. “Find out.”

And Sonny thought: Jesus Christ! It’s Dave all over again.

The cop leaned in the window. “Do not get out of the car,” he said to Sonny. “But I’ll need to see some I.D.”

Sonny did not reply, but he pulled out his wallet. He handed over his driver’s license without a word, but he met the cop’s eyes unflinchingly and felt instant hate.

“Steelgrave,” the cop said. “Yeah. I know that name even way out here in a dump like this. Heard you lost your whole company. Must’ve fallen on hard times, eh? Did it hurt much when the Feds fucked you in the ass? Or do you like being shafted, especially by the pretty ones?”

Before Sonny could say anything, Vinnie said, “What’s this got to do with anything?”

“Maybe he’s looking to get into business around here. What do I know? But his type isn’t welcome. Got it?”

“His type?” Vinnie asked.

The cop smiled. “Ex-con. Parolee. Mafioso. Nancy-boy. Get my drift?”

“Yeah, I get it,” Vinnie said. “But you don’t get to say who does legitimate business here.”

“No? Don’t be a snob, Quantico. We like pretty boy ex-Feds. But their faggot mobster boyfriends are not welcome.” With that, he tossed Sonny’s driver’s license back into the car. And he handed Vinnie a ticket.

Vinnie said, “Fuck, what’s this for?”

“Changing lanes without signaling.”

Vinnie said, “But this is a two-lane highway.”

“Take that up with the judge, then. And you.” He leaned down. “Mob-boy. If you’re gonna live here you need to get a Pennsylvania license. That one’s for some pit called Jersey which really doesn’t mean much around here. And you’re on parole so you better watch yourself or you could be back in prison before you blink. Have a nice day.” The two cops walked away.

Vinnie got back into the car. He said nothing, started it up, and pulled back onto the highway. Sonny was putting his wallet away. He looked at Vinnie. “I take it you know that guy.”

Vinnie shrugged. The tension in the car was thick.

“Hey,” Sonny said. “It happens. I can’t count how many times it’s happened to me. So you got your own little stalker. So what.” He tried hard not to think of all the nasty things the cop had said and take it in stride for Vinnie’s sake.

“He pulls me over about once a week and I’m sick of it. I made a report but a lot of good it did. Local cops don’t care about reports from FBI agents. We’re persona non-grata to them.”

“Hmm.” Sonny drummed a little beat on his thighs. “Maybe we should find another town to do business in, then. Or we could just whack him. I could call Rudy. He was always good at dirty deeds. He’d do any job for me if I paid him enough. He always liked me.”

“Yeah, right. Rudy.” Vinnie’s voice cracked.

“Dammit, I’m kidding,” Sonny said. “Let’s go get a drink or something.”

“That’d be real great. Next he can stop me for drunk driving. That’d make his day.”

“So I’ll drink soda and then I’ll drive home.”

Vinnie sighed heavily. “Let’s just go home.”

Sonny did not reply.

They drove in silence for a few minutes. All the fun had been taken out of the afternoon now.

Finally Sonny spoke. “How long has this guy been harassing you?”

Vinnie shrugged.

Sonny sighed. “That long, eh?”

Vinnie did not answer.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Vinnie glanced aside, his blue eyes catching the later afternoon light. “Tell you? What should I have said?”

“Okay, yeah,” Sonny said softly.

Sonny tried to imagine it. Vinnie living alone after everything that had happened, trying to put uncomfortable things behind him, put things back together, trying to be as normal as possible, going to work every day at a desk job he hated, then being harassed at least once a week by some anti-Fed local pig. After having lost pretty much everything. And all the while visiting a recalcitrant and withdrawn Sonny in prison never knowing if Sonny would ever warm to him again, or even see him once he got out of prison.

At least Sonny knew what he was up against in prison. Every day was planned. He kept to himself. He was, for eight months, literally outside the real world. But Vinnie had to face it every day. He had to go to work knowing that his co-workers knew he’d been demoted and if not the details as to why, at least the general reason. Vincent Terranova had refused to testify. It was like being a traitor, getting a deal, and coming back to work every day to face those who knew he’d failed, those who perhaps even believed he had betrayed them. And then to turn around and, once a week, face Sonny whom he had also betrayed.

The irony was Vinnie was such a good guy. How could this happen?

Well, the answer was easy. It could happen because Sonny was in his life. Sonny, being who he was, created a shadow over Vinnie’s life so big that Vinnie had become lost. He didn’t stand a chance. Vinnie’s world and Sonny’s world didn’t mix…or if they did mix the reaction was volatile. There was simply no way around that fact.

As he thought all that, Sonny realized the cop bullied Vinnie because of his connection to Steelgrave Enterprises. There was no other reason the cop would’ve singled Vinnie out. Vinnie had fought for love and become a target for everyone else. And no one would ever truly understand why Vinnie fought. How could they? No one knew the true exact story of what had gone on between them except them. Who they were, how they felt, what they’d been through…no one would ever really know. Maybe Frank could come the closest to guessing at it. But even Sonny himself didn’t understand it. Not fully.

Oh sure he could bandy about the word love every which way. But the truth was there was just something that pulled them so hard toward each other. Something almost strange, almost psychic. It was hard to look at Vinnie and not feel the urge to just be with him. Like wanting to walk into him, surround himself with pure Vinnie and forget the rest of life. At first Vinnie was just too fun, too smart, too good to be true. Sonny had been intrigued to say the least. But later he found he couldn’t catch his breath around the guy. And still later, after their first night together, he would find himself dizzy with wanting him all the time.

And then all hell had broken loose and something inside him had cracked open and died. And in the Rialto, well, that was about the craziest, the saddest and the maddest he’d ever felt all at once. And still that feeling never left, that breathless, dizzy longing mixed with an enormous, hopeless anguish that came with the destruction of all faith, and everything around him crashing to the ground in one big giant explosion.

He’d grabbed the exposed electrical wires.

Vinnie had lived on.

Then Sonny had been resuscitated.

But if Sonny had not been revived…would things have maybe been better? He couldn’t help but ask the question in his own mind.

Now he took a deep breath, realizing he hadn’t been breathing for an unknown amount of time. The breath came in two shaky gasps. Vinnie heard him. Glanced at him.

Sonny turned and stared out the window.

When they pulled up to the driveway, they both got out silently. Sonny moved ahead of Vinnie up the path to the front door. He took out his key and unlocked the handle, pushing the door open. Stepping through the threshold, he turned suddenly and said, almost casually, “It’s all because of me, Vinnie. I’m just bad for you. It’s my fault. I’ve thoroughly fucked up your life beyond recognition.”

All of a sudden Vinnie grabbed him hard, shoved him through the front door and pushed him up hard against the inside wall. His head cracked plaster. Vinnie hissed, “Don’t you ever think that!” And kissed him bruisingly, fingers digging into his arms, chest pushing against him so hard he couldn’t even breathe. Finally Vinnie pulled back. His eyes were blazing. His mouth was quivering. “Don’t ever.”

Sonny took a breath, then lifted both hands and framed Vinnie’s face. Very softly, he said, “I only meant…it’s what we are. And because of that, everything changed. For both of us. It’s just so unfair.” And gently he combed his fingers through Vinnie’s satin-soft hair. Calming him.

Vinnie’s grip eased.

“I’m sorry,” Sonny whispered.

Vinnie shook his head, frowning in question.

He leaned closer. “I put you through such hell.”

“We’ve both been to hell,” Vinnie finally replied, voice low.

Sonny gripped Vinnie’s head a little harder and pulled him down until their lips met again, nicer this time, with a little less anguish. Vinnie’s arms came around him. The kiss lasted a long time.

When they came up for air, Vinnie said, “Jesus Christ, Sonny. How’s this make any sense?”

Sonny smiled. “I don’t know. It just does.”

Finally, Vinnie smiled just a little. Their foreheads touched. They were both breathing hard. But that didn’t seem to matter. Because in that moment all other realities were obliterated except for the world of the two of them, and there were no cops, no Mafiosos, no betrayals or knock-down drag-out fights or bitter drunken confessions or attempted suicides or angry mothers or cold prisons or dead uncles. It was just them in one reality that held two beating hearts, two slightly damaged souls.

*

They fixed dinner early, both hungry from the day. They ate in front of the TV which Sonny thought at this point was probably for the best because then they didn’t have to talk, or pretend to talk, or not talk and be awkward in the silence.

Sonny put the dishes in the dishwasher and let it run.

When he came back, Vinnie was lying on the couch, his arm underneath his head, watching boring world news. Sonny sat on the floor and leaned against the middle cushion, bringing his knees up.

After awhile, Vinnie’s hand came to rest on his shoulder.

Later, some stupid cop program came on. Sonny pretended to watch but he was distracted by his own thoughts. He was a guy who liked to fix things, but today stuff had happened that he simply could not fix. He had to just let it be and move on.

It was frustrating, though. He craved control. When he’d lived in Atlantic City he had felt that heady rush, believing he was in control, playing the part of the spoiled prince. Nothing lasted forever. He knew that. But that position sure was a damn fine place to be. Once in awhile he caught himself still wondering if any of the old guys would take him back. Maybe Mack. Or maybe that new guy in New York would want an old-timer for advice. Even though he was only 35, Sonny felt like an old-timer.

But then he would think: And where would Vinnie fit into all this? He would have to leave him. He would have to cut the cord, cut him off completely, no further dealings. The thought roused a strange kind of panic that shot through his diaphragm and stomach. It was like thinking of cutting off his own leg. He’d be hobbling around for the rest of his life feeling unwhole. And all just to grasp that rush of control again. He asked himself: Is that worth it? Is that rush so big, so addictive that you’d sell your very soul, or the soul of the one you want?

Then he’d remember Vinnie’s soft gaze as he caught him watching him sometimes, lips relaxed into the ghost of a smile, the strange affection there, accompanied by a look Sonny had never truly known before. Honest devotion. He’d known devotion from those who’d worked beside him in the past, but it was devotion to money, power, glamour…never really devotion to him. Those men and women looked to Sonny in order to gain those things. To Sonny’s mind, they were whores, actually. Not that he had anything against whores. People did what they had to do to get by. But Vinnie never had seemed to want those things. Vinnie was not about those things. He had been doing a job, playing cop. Sure, he’d had his own agenda, but Sonny hadn’t known that. And now that he had full disclosure, Sonny realized that agenda had never included or required that kind of devotion. In that arena, Vinnie had lost control. Vinnie had ended up wanting him. So, even though Sonny had always wanted him back, the look on Vinnie’s face had at first confused Sonny, then made him curious, then crazy for him. He’d never known anything like it.

No. He’d never trade Vinnie. Never. Vinnie was the bigger rush. The one he’d always been looking for. He’d just never known it until they met.

A soft rumble of breath interrupted his reverie. Sonny turned and saw that Vinnie had fallen asleep, his hand still resting on Sonny’s shoulder. Sonny picked up the remote and switched the TV off. The room dimmed. The only light still on was coming from the kitchen. For a little while he sat and listened to Vinnie breathe. Finally, he got to his knees, reached out and touched the side of his head. “Hey,” he said.

Vinnie opened his eyes.

“C’mon.” He patted him on the arm.

Vinnie yawned and sat up. “How’d it end?”

Sonny frowned, then realized Vinnie was asking about the TV program. “They all died. Horribly.”

“Oh. Well fuck that.”

“It happens.” Sonny stood and Vinnie stood with him.

“Not on my watch,” Vinnie replied.

Sonny chuckled.

In bed, Vinnie wore his white tank and shorts. He turned onto his side facing Sonny, staring at him sleepily.

Sonny got in, crawled closer to him and said, “What are you looking at?”

Vinnie shrugged, leaned over and kissed him softly.

Sonny said, “Thought you were tired.”

“I am,” came the reply, but Vinnie pushed him onto his back and that was that.

They wrestled for awhile. Lost their shorts. Then Sonny was writhing, groaning, coming; Vinnie’s knowing hands and kisses were everywhere.

After he recovered, Sonny flipped him onto his back and worshipped that lean, hard body. Vinnie tasted sugary and tart, like some big wonderful dessert. He pushed Vinnie’s t-shirt up past his pecks, but he didn’t take it off. Then he touched and licked and tasted him all over. His hands caressed, stroked. His mouth explored. Vinnie moaned loud when Sonny caressed his balls, feeling them tighten. He licked the shaft of the hard penis, then laved the damp, sensitive head, kissing, feeling himself harden again in empathy as he explored all the textures, noted the responses, felt Vinnie start to thrash. He hugged him around the hips, drawing him closer, wanting him, owning him. He was in his own world of ecstasy doing this…this thing he’d never imagined wanting to do, let alone enjoy so much, with another man. But Vinnie…ah Vinnie broke all his rules. And he let him. And he liked it.

Vinnie’s hips moved. He called out Sonny’s name softly, then a second time louder, with a sudden hitch, a sob. Then he was gasping and coming and Sonny was holding him tighter and tighter. He didn’t want to let him go.

When Sonny looked up at him, coming to his hands and knees, he saw Vinnie wiping at his eyes with the back of one hand, his breath hitching in his throat. Maybe it seemed distant now, but a lot had happened this day to shake Vinnie up.

“What’s this?” Sonny touched the side of his head. “Hey…”

Vinnie turned away slightly.

“Hell, it was just a blow job, pal.”

“No.” Vinnie’s voice was strangled. He tried to laugh it off. “It wasn’t.”

Sonny kissed his cheeks, letting the rough, unshaven skin tickle his lips. Then he kissed his mouth. Vinnie pressed against him, then curled toward him, bangs rubbing his shoulder.

Sonny’s hand encountered a pair of shorts. Vinnie’s. He looked at him, on the verge of sleep. Strangely, Vinnie sometimes had a quirk for not sleeping naked. Not that he was naked. He still had on his white tank. But half the time, unlike Sonny, he re-dressed himself after sex. “Want these?”

Vinnie opened his eyes sleepily and shook his head. Sonny tossed them over the side of the bed, then brought the sheet up to both their waists and lay back. Within a minute, Vinnie was fast asleep.

*

What a day it had been. Sonny lay back in the thick moonlight, hand under his head, and had the sudden, unbidden thought: After being so unlucky, after everything I’ve lost, I’m still lucky. Just a flat-out, full-on lucky guy.

He glanced at Vinnie again. No one had ever loved him the way Vinnie did. It was so odd, and yet it seemed perfectly natural. As to their attraction, he could understand it somewhat. They were like-minded. They had the same background, heritage, even similar childhoods. They shared so many of the same tastes in things, food, clothing, sports, movies…even girls. But when that normal attraction that had them circling each other like two grinning boys became more than friendship, became longing, desire, intimate affinity…that was when Sonny became utterly confounded. What in the hell was it that propelled them over that final line and into each other’s arms like desperate drowning victims? He couldn’t quite say. But he couldn’t stop it. And neither did he ever want to stop it.

Finally, he dozed off.

He woke when Vinnie stirred from a dream.

He’d known Vinnie for almost two years. In that time, they’d only really slept together for a count of weeks. They had only become lovers in the last month leading up to Sonny going to prison. And now, in Pennsylvania, it had been a little over two weeks since Sonny had moved in. But in that short time, Sonny had come to know Vinnie’s sleep habits well.

Vinnie had nightmares. In those last weeks in Atlantic City, Sonny could pretty much figure out now what they had been about. Vinnie had been dealing with, and hiding, so much.

But now?

Sonny turned onto his side, stroking Vinnie’s silky black bangs. Vinnie gasped in his sleep, shuddered. Suddenly, he called out, voice thick with dream-speech. “Sonny! No!”

And that was when Sonny knew what these new nightmares were about.

He grabbed Vinnie’s arm, shook it. Vinnie mumbled something incoherent. In the stark moonlight, the blue eyes opened.

Sonny said softly, “I’m right here.”

Vinnie blinked. Swallowed hard.

“Right here,” Sonny whispered.

Vinnie put his arm around his waist, drew him close, closed his eyes. “And then they all died. Horribly,” he said with a tone of chagrin.

Sonny smiled. “Not on your watch, babe.”

Vinnie let out a short laugh.

After awhile, they both fell back to sleep.

*

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed this work by Natasha Solten, you may also enjoy her m/m romances on Kindle under her non-fanfic name: Wendy Rathbone. Look for "The Foundling," "The Secret Sharer" and the soon to be released "None Can Hold the Dark" (due in fall 2013.) She also has an sf novel out, and a collection of poetry.


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